


Trivial Facts

by ind3niall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cancer, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:10:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ind3niall/pseuds/ind3niall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis have been in a relationship since the start of uni, but they've been in love much longer. After several incidents, Louis took Harry to the hospital, where he was diagnosed with terminal leukemia. This is how they spend their remaining time together. AU, oneshot, some Larry smut, major character death, profanity, etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trivial Facts

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't know One Direction, and their AU characters are not based off anyone in real life. This is just how I imagine they would be at a different time in a different place under different circumstances. Also, although I did some research online, I took a lot of creative liberty writing this. I have no idea what it's like living with leukemia or any type of cancer, so there may be some mistakes. Please don't take anything I've written too seriously. It's just fiction, guys. Thanks for reading my work, though, it really means the world to me. Hopefully you enjoy!

“Are you sure you’re ready?” The boy speaking was about 19, but his youthful quiff contrasted with the ancient expression on his face and made it difficult to tell just from a glance. His right hand fidgeted with his striped shirt, his left placed firmly on the steering wheel of the car.

“You’ve asked that already,” the taller boy in the passenger seat replied. He had a more childish face, a bit rounder in some places, his hair curlier and slightly longer, but the two were equally fit in their own ways, and they were both roughly the same age. He turned to his friend. “Like a bunch of times. You can turn the car off now, Louis. Let’s just go.”

Louis swallowed and turned the keys, halting the engine. The silence was ominous, so he quickly pulled on the keychain and let it fall with a jingle onto his thigh. He cleared his throat. “Let’s go, then.”

The mates exited the vehicle without a word, making a beeline for the building towering in front of them. They entered the lobby, and the taller boy took Louis’ hand, intertwining their fingers. They shared small smiles.

“Thanks, Haz,” Louis murmured, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder.

“Harry Styles?” The woman behind the front desk stood up. The pair walked over to her. They’d only been to the clinic once before, but Harry tended to make an impression on people. Especially on those of the female persuasion. It also helped that his wasn’t a normal case.

“That’s me.” Louis couldn’t help smiling again at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. Harry didn’t believe him, but he thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

“How are you doing?” the woman asked, glancing between the two. Louis wondered if she could see the sleepless nights that were piling up on his shoulders or if he’d hid the circles under his eyes well enough.

“Ace.” Harry smiled at her. “And you?”

“I’ve been doing pretty well myself lately,” she answered with a returning smile. Harry was infectious like that, Louis knew. Five more minutes and he’d have the poor woman wrapped around his little finger, and being naïve about things such as he was, he wouldn’t even know.

“Shall we go to wait?” Louis asked awkwardly, feeling like he was interrupting.

“Of course!” The woman shuffled around some papers in a manila envelope and handed Louis a clipboard with a packet attached, Harry all but forgotten. She took a pen and pointed to the top sheet. “That’ll just be an information sort of thing. There’s a checkup sheet next and then a little waiver, nothing really different from last time. Just fill out as much as you can. There shouldn’t be a big wait.”

Louis took the pen and clipboard with his one free hand and, with one last thank you and a look at Harry, made the quasi-familiar trek to the waiting area. They were waved through to a new room: a waiting room for consultations.

The room was yellow, Louis noted with a decent amount of disgust. He knew from art classes he’d taken that yellow tended to represent tension and discomfort, insanity even. What a stupid colour to paint a waiting room.

“They have gardening magazines!” Harry declared cheerfully, holding up a glossy shot of petunias. He was beaming at his find. “See? S’not so bad, Louis.”

Louis forced a smile as he took a seat on one of the hard plastic chairs lining the room. “Yeah, if you like flowers.”

“You know you do,” Harry teased, sitting next him. He flipped a page. “Look, they have an azalea here. That’s your favourite, innit?”

“I’m more of a tulip sort of person.” Louis could feel himself softening with Harry’s easy banter. This was why he loved him. The boy could make any horrible situation into a better one just by commenting on flowers in some stupid magazine.

“Well good, because I have two lips,” Harry answered playfully, “and I’d sure be disappointed knowing you’d rather have one.”

“Funny boy.” Louis looked down at the papers he knew had to be filled out. “Haz, can you do these? I really need to use the loo.”

Harry nodded, taking the clipboard immediately. “Of course.”

Louis thanked him quickly and left the room, trying not to sprint. He hated himself for being so weak, but he needed a minute to relax by himself. He’d had all night to contemplate today, but as soon as Harry had woken up next to him, Louis had put himself on the backburner and made his boyfriend his priority. He didn’t want him to know just how scared Louis really was—though he suspected he knew anyway because he was Harry and Harry knew everything—and he really wanted to distract himself, thinking that if he could just forget about it, everything would go back to normal.

He was wrong.

Louis opened the stall farthest from the entrance, locked the door, and sat on the closed lid of the toilet with elbows rested on his knees and his face in his hands. He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump. After several failed attempts, he finally fought back the tears and sat back, resting his head against the cool white brick.

 _Be strong, Tomlinson,_ he told himself. It was just his lack of sleep catching up to him. He swallowed and tried to focus on his hands, clenched so tight his nails were digging into his palms. He would be okay. Perfectly intact. Harry, though…that was a different story. _Stop it!_

After a few more moments of internally battling himself, Louis willed himself to stand and exit his stall. He washed his hands for no reason and splashed some cold water on his forehead to wake himself up. Then he left his sanctuary to rejoin Harry.

“Took you awhile,” was Harry’s greeting when his mate finally returned. “Get lost in a toilet, did you?”

“Shove off,” Louis said as Harry mussed his hair. He made sure to smile a little, make sure it came across as joking. He didn’t want anything he said to be misconstrued. “How’s the heavy reading?”

“Good, good.” He still had the magazine open in his lap, the forms completed off to his side, but the page wasn’t turned from the azaleas he’d teased Louis about earlier. Louis’ heart sank. So he was worrying. “You know, I—”

“Styles?” a voice said, and the two boys looked up to see an official-looking woman dressed in scrubs scanning the room. Harry raised his hand halfway, lowering it awkwardly and standing up when the woman gestured. Louis scrambled to follow, and without so much as an introduction, the nurse led them behind a closed door and down a hallway. It smelled clean, Louis noted. Not like antiseptic, but like fresh linen. It was a different side of the hospital.

“You’re taking us to the doctor, right?” Harry asked. The woman raised an eyebrow as they walked. “I mean…my doctor. It’s the same one?”

“Yeah.” The woman stopped in front of a door and unlocked it swiftly, holding it open with one arm and stepping out of the way. “Doctor Richards. He’ll be here shortly. You can just take a seat.”

As soon as the boys entered and thanked her, she was gone and the door slammed shut. The only noise came from a small vent in the ceiling that was blowing some of the air around.

“I should’ve kept my magazine,” Harry commented, looking around at the blank walls. “There’s not much to do in here. Didn’t realize we’d be waiting.”

Louis looked too, spotting a poster. “You could read that bone chart over there.”

He knew it was a mistake as soon as he’d said it, and his fear was confirmed when Harry’s face fell, not quite crumpling, but definitely not staying as happy as was normal for him. Louis mentally slapped himself. _Bone chart. Fucking hell._

“Fuck,” he said after a moment of silence. He took Harry’s hand, rubbing circles on the back with his thumb the way he liked. He swallowed. “I’m sorry, mate. I just…I didn’t realize. I forgot. I’m sorry.”

One corner of Harry’s mouth twitched, but his eyes lay flat. “S’alright. Happens to everyone sometimes.”

“I really am sorry.” Louis’ hand found his boyfriend’s chin and gently pulled so they were looking at each other. His eyes were wide, and Louis didn’t miss the moisture in the corners. He pulled him into a hug, one of the tight ones he did when he just wanted to hold on and never let go. “I love you, Harry.”

“I love you too, Lou.” His voice broke at the end. Louis closed his eyes tightly and focused on Harry’s arms around his waist. A small sniffle almost broke him, and he squeezed once more before pulling away gently and guiding Harry onto one of the plush chairs opposite a desk. There was very little furniture in the room.

“Be strong, big guy.” Louis cleared his throat. “The doctor should be here any minute.”

As if on cue, the door opened, revealing the tall and skinny form of Doctor Richards. Louis knew he should feel relieved to see another familiar face, one that would give him answers, but all he could feel was the ball of fear in the pit of his stomach at the taut features of the doctor’s face.

“What’s up, Doc?” Harry’s joke would have been funnier if his voice hadn’t wavered in the middle. Louis took his hand and squeezed tight.

“Not much, I’m afraid,” Richards replied, his tone light. “Just paperwork today, mostly. Bloody receptionist messing up files and such.”

For a fleeting moment, Louis hoped that the doctor would say this whole thing was just a mix-up. Nothing was wrong, Harry was fine, and they could both just go home and live on normally. Then he realized how mental that was.

“I know you boys are here for information, though,” Doctor Richards continued, his voice becoming more serious. He pulled over the desk chair and sat, flipping through some papers. He sighed and ran his finger over a page. “You know the general idea, yeah?”

“I’m going to die,” Harry stated, and Louis was so taken aback by the lack of joking that he almost gagged on his inhale. He could feel himself starting to break apart, and he knew he didn’t have much time to get the information before he freaked out. He bit his tongue, though, and listened.

“Your case is terminal, yes,” the doctor confirmed. He’d developed a sort of automatic feel by then, and he didn’t sound too sad. His sympathy was just a tad too practiced. “You two knew that, though. You came back to find out how much longer. Right?”

“And to find out when he’s going to need tubes stuck in him,” Louis blurted unthinkingly. “How much longer he has until he’s stuck in a white room with a heart monitor and an IV and all that other stuff.”

“That’ll mostly be the last month or two, I think,” Richards said. Louis’ heart leapt, and he ignored Harry’s stare. He had at least a couple months.

“So how long?” Louis asked after a couple seconds. He felt a squeeze in his hand and remembered that he was still touching Harry. Funny. He hadn’t realized how numb his entire body had become. Maybe he was sick, too. “In all, I mean.”

The doctor leaned back in his chair and stretched slightly. “It’s always hard to say,” he finally said, leaning forward over his desk again and clasping his hands. “The body doesn’t run on a timer, and neither does cancer.” Louis felt the knot in his stomach tighten at the word. “Myelogenic leukemia is especially difficult to predict, even more so when it’s acute.”

“There are things you can do to slow it down, though,” Harry interjected, fidgeting. “Marrow transplants and new cures and all that. I looked it up on Google.”

“No need to include trivial facts, Harry,” Louis reminded him, trying not to snap. “He’s a doctor. He knows what he can do to help.”

“No, no, it’s quite alright.” Doctor Richards smiled a little. “It’s good to research your condition, find out treatment plans, life expectancy, all that sort of stuff. I often encourage my patients to do so. It helps boost morale and it’ll help you accept things. Deal with it, if I may be so blunt.”

Harry looked pleased with himself. “Did you hear that, Lou? I’m doing something right.”

Louis smiled weakly. “You do a lot right, Harry. Good job with that. Maybe you could show me some articles when we get back home.”

Louis knew very well what the articles would say. He’d read them all, or at least most of them and skimmed the others, within the first twenty-four hours of Harry’s diagnosis. It hadn’t boosted his morale or helped him “accept things”. In fact, it had made things much worse for him when he realized that there really was no cure at this stage, and he was literally counting down the time he had left with his best mate.

“I’d love that.” Harry’s smile faded a little when he looked back at the doctor. The boys waited for the man to continue.

“So, the prognosis.” The doctor looked at his notes. “I think you’d prefer if I just gave it to you straight, so that’s what I’m going to do. It looks like you have about eight months if we do everything right.”

All the air left the room. Louis felt his heart beating, pounding on his ribs. He felt like he was on fire, and he tried to swallow. Doctor Richards gave him a glance of sympathy, and looked at Harry, who must’ve looked so reserved and okay with what was happening because he was _Harry_ , and started talking about treatments and transplants and using medical jargon that Louis didn’t even try to decipher. He just had to stay strong for a moment. Just a moment more.

“Louis?” came Harry’s concerned voice, making Louis hate himself even more for looking so weak in front of the boy who was actually _dying_. He knew he had to be strong and brave and kept-together. He knew it, but the tears started and he couldn’t stop them, and suddenly all he could think about was how unfair and twisted this all was, that the happiest boy alive was diagnosed with _cancer_ and he only had eight months to live, and that he wasn’t just any boy to Louis, and that they’d always been there for each other through everything and some stupid fucking coincidence was going to tear them apart and leave both of them alone. Harry’s warm arms around him made Louis realize how cold he was, and he shivered hard before sniffing and regaining enough sanity to be embarrassed about his scene.

“I’m s…sorry,” he babbled, burying his head in Harry’s chest, savoring the warmth he wouldn’t have in eight months. That thought almost started another convulsion of sobs, but Louis locked it down hard and tight. It wasn’t until he felt his hair start to dampen that he realized Harry was crying, too, just quieter.

“Louis…” Harry pulled back, and Louis took in the tear stains and the bloodshot eyes. It made his heart ache to see Harry so vulnerable when he was usually so easygoing and just alright with everything.

“Oh, Haz,” Louis whispered. He wiped away the tears on his own face, accepting a tissue from the silent doctor sitting behind the desk. He’d probably seen a thousand scenes just like this. Louis wondered if he even felt bad anymore. Probably a little, he reasoned as he dabbed at Harry’s face.

“Will there be anything more, Doctor?” Harry asked after the crying was mostly under control and there had been an awkward silence in the room for several minutes. His voice was still a little shaky, and Louis laced their fingers together tight.

“I think that’ll be all for now.” The doctor looked once more at his notes and sighed again. “I’m really sorry, boys. If I had my druthers, you’d be cured right away, Harry. We’ll discuss more options at a later date, but we have some tests to do on relatives to see if there are any candidates for a marrow transplant or blood transfusions, and we’ll have to see about any surgeries. Who knows? We may be able to prolong those eight months by a bit.”

“Thank you.” Harry took a noticeably deep breath and shook the man’s hand. Louis did the same, but he didn’t make any eye contact.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks.”

They walked back to the car quietly. Harry gave the woman in the lobby a wave before they left, and she replied with a sad smile. She could tell the news hadn’t been favorable. _Good for her_ , Louis thought bitterly. It wasn’t like it changed her life at all.

When Louis turned the key in the ignition, Harry finally spoke up.

“D’you want me to drive, Lou?” he asked softly. “I can if you want.”

Louis laughed once, harshly. “You don’t know how to get home from here. You’re horrible with navigation.”

“I’ve been paying more attention lately,” Harry said earnestly. “Memorizing where we’ve gone and all that. I feel like…I feel like I should just know how to get around. By now. You know?”

Louis didn’t say anything. He was too busy thinking about the implications.

“Louis…”

“I’ll just drive, okay?” Louis cringed at the harsh tone. He wasn’t trying to be mean, he was just trying to keep himself together. “I’m sorry, Harry, but I just really need a distraction right now.”

Harry quieted at that, and Louis sighed as he shoulder-checked and backed out of the space. He had to resist honking at a woman going the wrong way down the row. Who was he to judge? Maybe she had a dying person in her car. He swallowed. He hoped she wasn’t judging him.

They were back on the road home when Harry spoke again.

“What did you mean back there?” His voice was quiet.

“About what?” Louis replied absentmindedly. He was quite enjoying speeding a few kilometers over the limit. Normally, he kept a lower speed. He’d driven so slow once that he’d been pulled over for a traffic violation. His friends hadn’t ever let him forget that. But at this moment, he didn’t really want to think about what was in his head, so fast it was.

“That you needed a distraction.” Louis glanced over and saw that Harry was biting his lip and staring straight ahead. “Did you mean, like, from me?”

“Aw, babe.” Louis finally slowed his speed so he could take at least part of his attention off the road. He let his hand drift to the area between them. His heart squeezed when Harry hesitated to take it. He took a deep breath. “I never want a distraction from you, Hazza. I promise.” He could feel the prickling in his eyes, but he swallowed it away. “I just don’t want to think about anything else. You know. The other stuff. But never you, okay?”

Harry nodded. “Okay.”

Louis signaled and made a turn, probably going slower than necessary because one of his hands was occupied. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry replied immediately. The following silence was comfortable, but there was a slight tension Louis couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“If Niall’s not going out anywhere tonight, you should invite him over,” he commented. “I know it’s a Friday and all, but Zayn and Liam are coming.”

“I’ve already done it.” Harry leaned his head back against the headrest of his seat and ruffled a hand through his curls. “He knows it’s important. He said he’d pick up some food for dinner if he remembered.”

“Not Nando’s.” Louis made a face. Harry laughed, revealing the dimples Louis loved to see. If he could make Harry smile every second of the day, he would be happy forever, he was sure.

“Most likely,” Harry admitted. Louis smiled. Even though he wasn’t a giant fan of Niall’s first food choice, he had to admit that he admired the boy. He was easygoing and relaxed, and even through these last few stressful weeks, he’d been able to keep the conversation light on the occasions they’d spent together. He was also one of Harry’s best mates and knew exactly what to say when something was going on in that head of his, something Louis had yet to master.

“D’you think we should pick up a movie or something?” Louis asked, glancing at a rental shop as they passed. Harry snorted good-naturedly.

“This is the twenty-first century, Lou. We can use Netflix.”

The friendly banter continued for the remainder of the drive, gradually quieting until the pair finally arrived in the driveway of their small, rented house. Louis sighed and let go of the hand that was keeping him grounded so he could shift into park and twist the keys out of the ignition. He knew Harry noticed the other car.

“They’ve probably let themselves in,” Louis commented, eyeing his boyfriend. He’d hoped they’d have a little more time to themselves, but he couldn’t be unhappy that the others were there. Much like Niall, they’d helped to make the last while bearable.

Harry nodded but didn’t say anything, letting himself out of the car without a word. Louis scrambled for a moment to do the same, and soon he was caught up. He reached out and was immensely satisfied when Harry took his hand without a thought. Louis led the way to the unlocked door and stepped inside, toting his boyfriend behind.

“Mum, Dad, we’re home!” Harry called sarcastically, his tone light-hearted. Louis stood with him on the small landing near the door, gazing at the still unfamiliar greeting steps. They led to the rest of the rooms, while another staircase led down to the basement. He still didn’t really understand the layout of the house, but he knew Harry loved it, and that was really all that mattered. His musings were interrupted when Liam appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Alright?” Liam greeted, smiling. Harry nodded.

“Alright.” He craned his neck to see around the banister of the upstairs landing. “Where’s Zayn?”

“Come on up and you’ll see.”

Confused, Louis climbed the steps and looked around briefly before Liam laughed quietly and pointed down the hall to an open bedroom door.

“He’s sleeping, mate. Has been since we got here.”

“You should wake him up, Louis,” Harry urged softly, coming off the last stair. Louis found himself analyzing the boy, making sure he didn’t seem any more tired than usual from climbing. He winced, remembering the football game that had prompted him to take the boy to the hospital in the first place. He’d been so exhausted after only the first half that he’d almost fainted. If Harry was tired now, though, he was disguising it well.

“Why?” Louis asked, pulling his mind away from darker subjects.

“Because I want to watch a movie with you guys,” Harry stated. His fingers absentmindedly mussed his hair. Louis silently locked the image into his mind. “Before Niall gets here and eats all our food and chats until our ears fall off, I mean.”

“I like that plan.” Liam smiled again, and Louis observed this time that it didn’t reach his eyes. Liam noticed that Louis was staring and their gazes locked in a silent conversation. For just one instant, Louis saw the pain his friend was feeling, for himself and Louis and Harry. He tried to make his face convey everything he was feeling, but the moment was over before he could drop the mask he’d adopted recently.

“I’ll wake him,” Louis said weakly, turning and taking off down the hallway before he could get involved in any more silent conversations. He was really starting to hate himself, he realized as he walked quietly into the occupied room. Sighing, Louis sat on the edge of the bed and gazed down at the dark-haired boy, fully dressed with his arms crossed as he slept. His face looked taught despite his slumber. Louis shook his shoulder gently. “Zayn?”

Zayn groaned softly, still asleep.

“Zayn, bebz,” Louis murmured. “Time to get up.”

The boy finally stirred, unwrapping his arms from his torso and stretching them up. Louis winced at the popping sounds.

“Vas happ’nin’?” Zayn mumbled, squinting at the light as he sat up and pulled the covers down. Louis rubbed his back to wake him up some, smiling a little to himself. He’d never tell anyone else, but he always enjoyed waking his friends up. He liked watching the sleep leave their eyes as they became alert and awake, ready to face the world. Harry would forever be his favourite, he knew, recalling the rough morning voice.

“Movie time, sleepyhead,” Louis said briskly, standing to clear his head. “Harry’s choice. Hurry and wake up so we can finish before Niall comes over.”

Zayn nodded in understanding and pulled himself out of bed, stretching one last time and running his fingers over his quiff to fix it. “Hey, Lou?”

Louis swallowed nervously. “Yeah?”

“Did you find out?” Zayn’s eyes were the only ones Louis had ever seen that could be so dark and mysterious and still seem so caring and understanding.

“Yeah,” Louis replied, shifting his gaze to the floor. “Yeah, we did.”

Zayn sighed. “Sucks, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Louis knew that Zayn really wanted to comfort him, tell him that he was sorry, let him know that everything would be okay in the end and he shouldn’t beat himself up with worry about things. He also knew that Zayn wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t a liar, and there was no way he’d say anything of the sort unless he knew Louis was on the verge of a total meltdown. So there was really only one other reason he was bringing it up right now.

“You want to know before the others.” Louis looked up, and Zayn nodded slightly.

“I guess.” He took a deep breath. “I just…I don’t want to keep wondering about it. I didn’t get any sleep last night. I’m sure you didn’t either. I want to know before it drives me crazy.”

Louis didn’t comment on the fact that Zayn had just spoken more in one breath than he had the entire day before. Instead, he crossed his arms, hoping that maybe it would keep him together.

“Louis?” Zayn dragged his hand through his hair again, looking spent. “Look, mate, I’m sorry. You don’t have to—”

“Eight months,” Louis whispered almost unintelligibly. Just like back at the doctor’s office, all the oxygen left the room and Louis had to close his eyes and fight to breathe. “Six until he’s probably permanently hospitalized.”

Zayn cursed under his breath. Louis opened his eyes for a moment to look at him. His gaze was unfocused, but his head was turned toward the window, probably to hide the shine of the tears in his eyes. Louis almost panicked for a moment; Zayn was always the strong one, the calm and collected guy he spilled his troubles to. He knew, though, that this time was different. Zayn wasn’t a neutral party. He knew Harry as well as Louis. He couldn’t be expected to be completely reserved at a time like this.

“Have you two talked much?” Zayn finally asked. Louis frowned. “About what you’re gonna do, I mean? Like, fly off to Paris or something?”

Louis almost smiled. “We haven’t. I think Harry’s probably happier here, though. I’d be happy to take him anywhere, but…you know. He loves his friends.”

“Yeah.”

The new silence was awkward, and Louis soon excused himself and left to avoid the tension, adding that Zayn ought to hurry so they could start the movie as soon as possible. He then fixed a polite smile on his face and entered the room with the telly, what Harry affectionately called the living room. He and Liam were already there, bickering over the movie to watch.

“Louis!” Harry cried when he saw Louis. “Tell Liam we should watch something Disney!”

“Disney’s for kids,” Liam argued, snatching the remote out of Harry’s hands. “And besides, we watched this movie last week! Be original, why don’t you?”

Louis was thankful for Liam’s attitude. This was their normal, everyday communication, laced with childish arguments and optimistic discussion. Louis knew that he himself wouldn’t be able to keep the same tone with Harry, knowing everything he did. He wondered if Liam would change at all when he found out how long Harry had left. He couldn’t really tell that Liam knew anything now, but the boy had always been good at being cheery, especially around his friends.

“I think,” Louis interrupted, trying his best to sound lighthearted, “that we should watch Grease.”

Liam groaned. “Not again, Lou.”

“Disney!” Harry protested. Louis could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out the best way to convince him.

“We could ask Zayn,” Liam suggested. Louis almost laughed. Zayn always sided with Liam in these sorts of arguments. Almost any argument, really.

“Please, Louis?” Harry pleaded, moving to stand in front of the shorter boy. Louis had to look up to see his face, and he let his eyes trace over the plush, kissable lips, the perfect cheekbones, the adorable nose, and, finally, the big green eyes that he loved to wake up to every morning. He rose onto his tiptoes and gave Harry a peck on the lips.

“How about Toy Story?” he suggested. Still looking at Harry, he added, “That’s one of your favourites, Liam, innit?”

“I’ll find it,” the boy agreed, respecting their space enough to leave it at that as he scrolled through menus on the screen. Harry was smiling his victory smile, his dimples clear on his cheeks, and Louis couldn’t bring himself to look away. God, he was beautiful.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, leaning down and kissing Louis’ cheek, letting his lips drift toward his jaw and licking ever so slightly. Louis shivered, forgetting about things for a moment as he tilted his head and allowed Harry access to his neck.

“Oh, Jesus, break it up, you two!” Louis jumped back at the sound of Zayn’s voice, properly chastised, but Harry laughed and pulled Louis to his chest in a hug before pulling the smaller boy down onto the sofa with him.

“Later,” he said suggestively, loud enough for Zayn to hear. Louis couldn’t help but laugh as he crawled out of Harry’s lap onto the space next to him. He left his legs hanging over Harry’s thighs, though, reluctant to break all contact. If Zayn noticed that, he kept quiet, instead finding his place next to Liam. Louis examined his face for signs of crying, but he knew he wouldn’t find any. Zayn was much too skilled at covering his emotions.

Sighing, Louis snuggled into Harry’s side, inhaling the scent of his boyfriend so as not to forget it. He hardly noticed when the movie started.

*******

“Vous avez résidé ici pendant combien de temps?” Harry asked, leaning so his face was practically pressed against the glass divider. Louis smiled at his eagerness to talk to the man. Harry used any excuse he could to practice his French, and a Parisian cab driver must’ve seemed like the golden opportunity.

“Vingt et un,” the driver replied, sounded proud. “J’ai trente-six ans, mais je suis né à Lyon. Maintenant, je travaille à Paris.”

“Ouais?” Harry looked genuinely interested. “Où est le meilleur lieu pour manger?” _Where’s the best place to eat?_

“Harry, we’re going for a picnic,” Louis reminded him, tapping his thigh gently. “Nous allons faire un pique-nique, yeah?” Harry glanced at the hand on his leg as he mussed his hair out of habit. It made Louis happy for some reason.

“Right,” he conceded, turning back to the driver. “Nous allons faire un pique-nique, donc oubliez ça. Forget that.”

The driver nodded. “D’accord. Amusez-vous bien!”

As they pulled up to the curb, Louis looked around at the grand old buildings. He’d only ever been to Paris once before, but he had been quite young. So when Harry had told him he wanted to visit some places around Europe, he’d been surprised but happy to oblige. It made him recall what Liam had said about sweeping each other away. Louis knew they’d be back, though, probably sooner than he’d like. Harry always got homesick on trips away without all of his friends. He remembered the conversation he’d had with Niall before he left with Harry.

“You take care of him, you hear?” Niall had requested, looking at him seriously. Louis nodded. “He’s special, Harry is. He’ll want to go everywhere and do everything and see everything.”

“I know,” Louis replied with a laugh. “I won’t be able to keep up with him.”

Niall’s expression softened a little. “Yeah. He likes you though, mate. You know how long we’ve known each other. I can read his face like a book, and the way he looks at you…it’s different. He’ll be happy doing whatever you wanna do, just as long as you’re there.”

Louis smiled. “I’ll take care of him.”

They’d said their goodbyes soon after and taken the two hour train ride from Manchester to London, to which Harry and Louis had both been but still wanted to visit again. Besides, they’d known they could get a direct flight to Paris the next day. So they did, and here they were, spending an evening in Paris after sleeping off the fatigue of the trip in the airport.

“Let’s find a place on the lawn,” Harry suggested, taking the basket from the seat as he paid the man the necessary fee. He turned and surveyed the area, putting his hands on his hips. “That’s a nice tree over there. We could eat under that.”

“Whatever you like, Harry,” Louis replied agreeably. He followed Harry’s long gait to the spot about thirty meters away. It was as good a place as any, so they sat and pulled out their sandwiches. Louis took a bite, savouring the taste of the French salami. He soon found himself taken up by Harry, distracted by the look of concentration as he pulled his sandwich apart with his long fingers and put pieces in his mouth. Louis felt his chest tighten, and not in a particularly bad way. Harry glanced up.

“What?” he asked, his mouth full of sandwich. A few crumbs dropped down his chin.

“I was going to tell you to stop eating so seductively,” Louis said easily, “but I can see you’ve already got that covered.”

Harry swallowed and grinned before taking a giant bite and mashing it in his teeth, mouth wide open. Louis wrinkled his noise but was unable to stop the laugh that followed the childish display.

“Charming, Styles.”

They finished eating and sat in comfortable silence. Harry leaned against the tree and crossed his legs, reaching his arms up and arching his back in a stretch. He raised an eyebrow when he was done. “Sorry, am I seducing you again, Mr. Tomlinson?”

“You make me sound like a pedophile when you call me that,” Louis protested, making a face. He dragged himself from his place, though, and scooted so he was seated next to Harry. He leaned his head on the familiar broad shoulder, and Harry’s long arm wrapped around his middle, securing him in place. Louis sighed contentedly. “I love you, Haz.”

“I love you too,” Harry replied immediately, leaning in a couple inches to press a long kiss to Louis’ head. “Paris is so pretty. Thanks for agreeing to come. I know it was a really quick decision and all that.”

“I wanted to come here again as much as you,” Louis said quietly, not wanting to interrupt anything. Although Paris was a big city and there was a fair bit of traffic on even the smallest of roads, it was much quieter than London. He felt like speaking loudly would be a disruption. “It’s beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” Harry teased, and Louis ducked his head, his cheeks warming. He would never get over Harry or his voice. How someone could fit so much affection into just a few easy words Louis would never know.

“No need to get sappy and romantic,” Louis replied. Harry laughed his adorable laugh, and Louis closed his eyes at the rumbling against his side and back. It was so easy to be around him, so easy to be happy and just forget that he was sick. Louis had been so happy for so long now. He’d been eating more, sleeping better. He found himself having to remind himself to be careful around Harry, to be gentle when he took his hand or kissed him or curled up in his chest, cuddling and talking for hours.

Still, he saw the bruises from when he wasn’t careful enough, and the paleness that was just starting to seep into Harry’s skin. He noticed that his arms could fit better around Harry’s shoulders and his fingers touched when they went around his wrists. Harry was thinning and losing muscle, and it wasn’t just because he wasn’t exercising much anymore.

Harry seemed healthy to everyone else—a couple cheeky girls at the airport had even tried to chat him up, much to the boys’ amusement—but Louis knew what was wrong, things so deep inside Harry that nobody could see them. It was literally in his blood, in his bones, and it was taking its time coming out.

Louis sighed. The sun was just starting to dip below the buildings at the edge of the park, and it sent out pink and orange rays that reflected off the glass windows. He turned his head to look up at Harry and wasn’t surprised when he was met with green eyes peering right back. They chased the worry out of Louis’ heart, at least for the time being. He knew this might be the last time he was truly happy, without doubts or fears bearing down on him, and he’d be damned if he let it be ruined by overthinking.

“Je t’aime,” Louis sighed. _I love you._ He kissed Harry’s collarbone lightly, careful not to press too hard. Harry smiled.

“Je t’aime aussi,” he answered, pressing his lips to Louis’ temple.

They watched the sun until it was behind the buildings and waited long after the last of the rays had disappeared from the sky. They watched as the stars appeared, a few at a time, until most of the sky was filled with tiny pinpricks of light, shining through the dark of the night and the light of the city.

They watched, and they kissed, and Louis reveled in the feeling of being in Harry’s still-strong arms, fearing the moment they became too weak to hold him.

*******

Louis was getting used to it now. The tangible awkwardness in the air, that was. He stood by the familiar stove in the familiar kitchen he shared with Harry and flipped pancakes silently. Harry wasn’t even in the room yet, and already he could feel himself getting tense.

It wasn’t that their relationship was strained—it wasn’t any worse now than when they’d gotten the diagnosis. Louis knew it was his fault for not being able to look Harry in the eye and give a genuine smile. It was his fault he couldn’t deal with looking at Harry at all. Every time he saw a dimple, saw a flash of green beneath long lashes, saw the beautiful curls he loved to stroke, he fell in love all over again. And then he’d remember it would all be gone in a few short months.

Louis frowned and turned his attention back to the pancakes, carefully edging them up to take a peek beneath each one. They weren’t quite ready.

“How’re they coming along?” Louis jumped at the sound of Harry’s voice, slightly raspy from sleep and oh so beautiful. Louis swallowed, not turning to look at him.

“Good,” he replied, feigning interest in a spot on the counter. He picked at it with his fingernail. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” There was a scratching, creaking sound, and Louis knew Harry had seated himself at their small wooden table. “How long have you been up?”

“Just awhile,” Louis lied, glancing at the clock on the stove. It was about ten in the morning, and he’d been up for at least five hours. “Had to get up before you to make breakfast. I didn’t want cold cereal like when it’s up to you.” Louis waited for the witty reply. Silence. “That was a joke, Haz.”

“I know.” Harry was quiet for another moment. “Lou, did you leave so you could sleep without me?”

Louis had to turn then, and his heart squeezed a little at the confused expression on Harry’s face. “What?”

Harry turned his head, not making eye contact. “You woke me when you got up. I didn’t say anything because I thought you had to wee or something. But you didn’t come back, so I just thought…you know. You went to the guestroom.”

“Oh, Harry,” Louis said, trying his best to make his voice light and teasing. Harry looked up, surprised at the tone. Louis tried not to stare and failed. “I woke up with way too much energy. I cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen and I decided to make breakfast. That’s all. I’m sorry, babe.” He walked over and gave him a quick kiss on the hair. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Oh.” The worried wrinkle between Harry’s brows softened, though the corners of his mouth were still turned down. “Alrighty, then. Pancakes?”

Louis offered a small smile and turned back to the griddle on the stovetop, serving the flapjacks onto the prepared plates. He doused Harry’s in syrup the way he liked and added a little to his own before he placed them on the table. They ate quietly, with only the occasional scrape of a fork to break the silence. Louis felt himself growing heavier with every swallow, and it wasn’t because of the food.

When they were both done, Harry, ever the kind and courteous boyfriend, took the dishes from the table and put them in the small dishwasher. As he returned to the table, obviously at a loss for what to do or say, Louis noticed the mark on his arm.

“What’s that?” he asked. It didn’t come out as nonchalant as he’d wanted. In fact, it came out as more of a squeak that he had to cover with a small cough. Harry raised an eyebrow. “On your arm. That bruise is new.”

Harry studied it for a moment before shrugging. “I must’ve hit it while I was sleeping.”

“You throw your arms around all the time,” Louis pointed out, trying not to sound snappy. He knew that he was being irrational, that it wasn’t Harry’s fault in the slightest, that it was his blood cell count to blame. He took a deep breath to calm himself. “You practically flail in your sleep. You never bruise from that.”

Harry just shrugged again. “Cancer does that, I guess.”

Louis froze. They never mentioned it anymore. Not unless it was late at night and Harry was sleepy, and they just cuddled and talked about what they’d do the next day and the day after, and Harry would rattle off a ridiculous list of things he wanted to do while Louis nodded lazily, his mind reeling but his face and smile relaxed so he wouldn’t worry tired Harry. He couldn’t believe it had just slipped out so casually and carelessly.

Without a word, Louis spun and stormed from the room, more mad at himself than at Harry, but angry all the same. He didn’t really have a place to go, though, so he just let himself into the bedroom and stood glaring at the bed. There weren’t words for his rage. He knew as he crossed his arms over his chest that he wasn’t mad at Harry; he could never be mad at a boy so perfect, not for more than a few seconds. No, this was hatred he’d been carrying for weeks, and it was all for himself.

He’d _had_ to choose Harry Styles.

He’d _had_ to fall in love with him.

He’d _had_ to ignore all the signs, all the bruises that wouldn’t go away after weeks of icing and waiting, all the moments of fatigue during short games of footy that Harry’d never had a problem with before.

He knew it wasn’t his fault Harry had cancer, but he could’ve done _something_. He knew, of course, that there was no way of knowing back then. Harry had laughed it off so Louis had, too. That was just how their relationship was. Louis knew, but he still hated it. Hated himself.

The door creaked open.

“Babe?” came Harry’s voice. Louis stiffened. “Louis, I’m sorry. I know you’re sensitive to that sort of talk. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“S’my fault,” Louis muttered, not turning his way. “I’m too sensitive.”

“You know I love that about you,” Harry replied easily. Louis heard him start to step forward and he turned before he could advance further. It worked; Harry stopped.

“I really am sorry,” Louis said, as sincerely as he could. He meant it, in more ways than one. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers getting stuck in a week’s worth of messy tangles. “I know I need to start being more open about stuff. I’ll get it sorted. Promise.”

Harry smiled, but Louis saw the sadness he hated hidden poorly beneath it. “It’s okay, Lou. I love you, remember? We have time to work on it.” He took a step forward. “Forever, promise.”

Something inside Louis snapped.

“You _say_ forever,” Louis spit, circling around so he was closer to the door, just in case he had to bolt. Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and they just as quickly joined together in hurt. Louis was surprised at himself, but he couldn’t stop. Weeks of pressure were pushing on his chest, threatening to make him explode. He had to let it out. “Is that really likely, Harry? You’re _dying_. There might not be a tomorrow for you, and in four months you’ll have gone. That’s not fair, and you can’t say forever.”

Harry’s face crumpled, and Louis felt his own heart snap in two. He knew he couldn’t change how he felt, but he couldn’t stand seeing Harry so destroyed. Before he could say something, anything, to make things better, Harry reached behind the door and grabbed his coat. Louis’ mind was reeling.

“Where are you going?” He felt panicked.

“I need…” Harry took a shaky breath and hiccupped on the tears. “I need to get away from here right now. I can’t…talk. Please.” He took a halfhearted step around the shorter boy.

“Harry,” Louis whispered, the anger in him dying as quickly as it had come. He instinctively wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, and he felt Harry’s warm arms around him almost immediately. “Haz, I’m so sorry. I just…”

“I’m giving you my forever,” Harry choked, resting his chin on Louis’ head. Louis felt his hair start to dampen. “I know my forever isn’t as long as yours, Lou, but I’m…I’m giving it to you anyway. Please don’t leave.”

Louis swallowed. “I’m not going anywhere. I just wish our forevers were the same.”

“Me too, Louis.”

“You’re gonna die,” Louis said, the words barely registering in his head before they left his mouth. Harry laughed once through his tears. Louis winced at how raw it sounded.

“No need to mention trivial facts,” Harry said, kissing Louis’ hair.

“Shut up,” Louis said weakly, recalling bitterly that Harry had gotten those words from him. He tilted his head up and moved his hand to wipe Harry’s cheeks. He knew he couldn’t make the tears stop, and he knew the damage he’d just done was inexcusable, but he’d try his damn best to make it repairable. His lips found Harry’s easily and naturally, and he found himself crying harder now that they were kissing and it felt just as good as it had a few months ago, before they’d known that Harry’s forever wasn’t long enough.

“I love you,” Harry whispered when they broke apart for a moment to breathe. Louis kissed the corner of his mouth, trailing his lips over his cheekbone, maybe a little less full than he remembered, but still just as beautiful. He licked the shell of Harry’s ear how he liked, and loved the shiver he got in return.

“I love you too, you beautiful boy,” Louis murmured, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses down Harry’s jaw before returning to his lips, full and pink. He could taste the tears on Harry’s skin, and he kissed them away the best he could as he walked his boyfriend backwards to their bed. Harry jumped a little when the backs of his knees touched the covers. He broke the kiss for a moment to look at Louis curiously.

“You never…” Harry bit his lip, and Louis cocked his head, placing a few questioning kisses on Harry’s cheek. Harry was quiet.

“What, love?” Louis asked gently, fighting still more tears from pouring from his eyes. Harry licked his lips.

“You never top,” he said quietly, ducking his head in embarrassment. “I can, you know. You don’t…you don’t have to.”

“Harry Edward Styles,” Louis whispered, pushing gently. Harry leaned back on the mattress, watching him uncertainly. Louis crawled up to straddle him lightly, making sure to keep most of his weight on his own knees. He kissed the hollow of Harry’s throat before moving his lips to his pulse point at the strong muscle between his neck and shoulder. Harry moaned lightly, his eyes closing. “Do you really think I’d deny myself the pleasure of making you feel good?” He licked lightly and hovered over Harry’s face until he opened his eyes. “Let me. I want you to know how much I love you.”

Harry hesitated, then nodded, sitting up slightly just long enough for Louis to slide his shirt up and off his torso, his own joining Harry’s on the floor within seconds. Louis trailed slow kisses down Harry’s chest, admiring the muscles that were still there despite how weak he was getting. Louis lightly licked and blew on and kissed every inch of Harry he could reach, until Harry was breathing hard and rutting into Louis’ hips, trying so hard to stay quiet and failing miserably. Louis smiled as he reached for Harry’s belt, undoing the buckle and sliding the jeans down. The pants went next.

“Louis,” Harry murmured, watching as Louis brought a hand to his full cock and slid his fingers down its length. Harry’s hands fisted in the sheets at his sides. “Christ.”

Louis grasped Harry’s cock firmly and pumped until it was coated in precum. He felt the muscles in Harry’s legs clench and unclench beneath him as the boy tried to keep himself from bucking into Louis’ hand. Louis loved it, loved watching Harry come undone under his ministrations, loved watching him struggle to keep his eyes open to watch Louis through the ecstasy. Louis smiled at him and dipped his tongue over Harry’s tip, lightly palming him. Harry’s hands rose immediately to the back of Louis’ head, his fingertips tangling gently in his hair.

“Please, Louis,” Harry begged, trembling. “God, don’t stop.”

Louis shook his head and smiled again before taking Harry’s length in his mouth, his throat relaxing and allowing access. He licked and sucked, trailing his hands down Harry’s abs and playing around the base of his dick. Harry groaned loudly, his head falling back against the bed as his hands continued to massage the back of Louis’ head.

“Don’t…” Harry breathed, gasping as Louis hummed lowly. “Lou, I’m gonna…”

“Do you want me to finish you like this?” Louis murmured, his mouth leaving Harry’s cock for a moment to look up into big green eyes.

“You be top,” Harry managed, and that was all the go ahead Louis needed to grab the lube and a condom out the nightstand drawer. Harry reached for them, but Louis held them away from his grasp.

“Let me,” he said softly as he pulled his trousers and pants down. He was already hard as he ripped the packet open and gently pulled the condom over Harry’s dick.

“Can I lube you?” Harry asked, his voice cracking. Louis nodded and found his place over Harry again, kissing up his neck until he found his lips. Harry’s hands found Louis’ ass quickly, and Louis whimpered into Harry’s mouth when one of his fingers found his hole. “I know, baby, I know it feels good.”

Louis opened his eyes and pulled back a couple of centimeters as Harry added another finger and made a scissor motion to open him up. Louis swallowed as they made eye contact, holding Harry’s gaze until he couldn’t stand it anymore and his eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Lou,” Harry whispered as he lined himself up. “You know?”

“Not as beautiful as you.” Louis’ lips crashed down on Harry’s as he entered Louis, slowly until he was so stretched Louis couldn’t breathe. “Fuck, Haz, move.”

“Okay, baby.”

They’d fucked many times before, and made love on even more occasions, but this to Louis was something completely different. He could feel every inch of Harry inside him, stretching him, filling him so much that the pleasure was indescribable. His mouth moved against Harry’s in a way it hadn’t ever moved before, so intimate and sexy but so sweet and gentle that it took Louis’ breath away. He didn’t notice that he was crying until he opened his eyes and saw that Harry was crying, too.

“Harry,” Louis moaned. He heard his voice break, but he didn’t even care. His hands tangled in Harry’s soft curls, pulling so hard he thought it might rip out by its roots. Harry hissed in a breath, but his own hands were on Louis’ back, scratching and pulling him ever closer. _Closer._ Louis didn’t think it was possible, but they were closer now than they’d ever been, moving like one. He felt the familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach, felt it start to travel to between his legs, and he closed his eyes as he kissed Harry harder.

“You’re so perfect,” Harry said around Louis’ lips. “So fucking perfect, Lou.”

“I love you, Hazza.” Louis looked into the familiar eyes of his boyfriend through his tears.

“I love you too, Lou.” Harry pressed another kiss to Louis’ lips, and they didn’t break eye contact, even as Louis felt Harry twitch inside him, even as he felt the pressure, even as the warm honey in his stomach hit its boiling point and he had to bite his lip to keep from screaming as they rode out their orgasms, rutting against each other until they were both too sensitive and too tired to move. Finally, Louis couldn’t help himself, and he tucked his head into the hollow of Harry’s shoulder and closed his eyes, barely remembering to roll most of his weight off his chest so he wouldn’t hurt him.

“I love you, Harry Styles,” he whispered, nuzzling the soft skin of his boyfriend’s neck.

“I love you too, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry replied, his voice thick with fatigue. His arms wrapped around Louis tightly, holding him in place. “I’ll love you ‘til the day I die.”

“Forever,” Louis added, too tired to be embarrassed about the high pitch of his voice. He snuggled closer.

“Forever,” Harry agreed, and Louis sighed with contentment. Soon Harry’s breathing deepened and evened out, and Louis found himself lulled to sleep with the familiar feeling of belonging and the smell of Harry.

***

Louis was pacing, his thumbnail permanently stuck between his gnawing teeth. He was stressed. Almost as stressed as he had been the days he’d gone into consultation with Harry during those first few months. He knew nothing could top that, but this was pretty close.

“Thank you, Gemma,” he remarked, pausing as he passed the girl seated in the waiting room, acting how normal people did. He wished he could have her strength.

The brunette girl groaned. “Don’t start this again, Louis. You’ve been thanking me since I stepped off the plane. Give it a rest.”

Louis was well aware that he was getting annoying. He couldn’t help it, though. He was thankful—oh so thankful—that Gemma had taken the time to come out to donate the marrow Harry needed if he was going to last his entire eight months. Of course she would, though; she was his sister. Louis knew from the beginning she’d need no convincing. She’d flown out ten days before. They’d tested her and found her to be a compatible match within a week. Then they’d given her some medications and injections that Harry and the doctors talked about but Louis still didn’t fully understand.

“It’s called apheresis,” the specialist, an extremely kind man who let the boys call him simply Paul, had explained. “We inject things that get PBSC, or stem cells, out of her bones and into her blood so we can take it and give it to our boy here.” Then he’d smile at Harry and Harry would smile back with his dimples and his explanation would lose all sense in Louis’ mind. All he knew was that this would hopefully extend Harry’s time some.

And so they were waiting. They had to see if the cells were viable before they gave them to Harry, who’d gone through three days of chemotherapy and one dose of strong radiation for this moment, not even knowing whether or not the procedure was going to happen.

The door to the waiting room opened.

Louis felt his hands start to tremble, and he quickly fisted them and shoved them into the pockets of his hoodie. Even Gemma jumped a little, he noticed, looking up at the door in earnest. Paul walked through, and Louis breathed a sigh of relief. He’d come to like Paul. Even if he didn’t understand everything that was happening, the man was nice and he made Harry laugh and seeing Harry happy could get Louis through all but the worst of his worries.

“Good?” Gemma asked with no preface. Paul smiled and gave a thumbs up. Louis felt a rush of relief.

“Perfect,” he confirmed, checking the clipboard that seemed small in his large hand. “You have beautiful cells, love. Come on in now so you can distract him. He’s driving our poor nurse mental.”

Gemma rose and let Paul hold the door for her. She led herself to the room; she knew where it was. Louis hesitated before following, turning to Paul instead.

“How are the success rates for this again?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. His fists were clenching and unclenching in his pockets. Paul’s friendly face comforted him somewhat, but not nearly enough.

“For late stage acute,” Paul said patiently, “you know there’s no cure. The success rates for prolonging life expectancy are better with this treatment than with just radiation and chemotherapy. That’s why we haven’t been doing it all along.”

“But are they good?” Louis persisted. Paul sighed.

“They’re decent,” he lamented. “Not great, but they’re not horrible. Even without one hundred percent success, though, the chemo will have helped some. And he needs this. His body literally can’t fight infections right now. A cold could be detrimental. After the rest of this treatment, I’m confident he’ll make it all eight months, Louis.”

Louis’ shoulders sagged a little, relieved. “Thanks, Paul.”

The man nodded, gently placing a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder and leading him to the procedure room. All Louis smelled were cleaning supplies and chemicals, and all he could think about was how he wanted the week to be over so he could take Harry home and keep him there until he absolutely needed to be hospitalized because he couldn’t stand this anymore. Then he saw Harry chatting up the elderly nurse from his little white hospital bed and his smile was back at the woman’s cornered animal stance.

“Harry!” he admonished as he walked in. Harry looked up with wide, innocent eyes. “Don’t flirt with the help. That’s not gentlemanly.”

Harry laughed, clapping a hand over his mouth to smother the volume. Louis’ smile widened. He loved Harry like this, so carefree despite everything.

“You ready, boys?” Paul asked, putting on a fake serious expression. “Now, no monkey business right now. This is a serious medical procedure.”

Harry nodded, still grinning boyishly. “Sure thing, doctor. Hit me with your best shot.”

Paul seated himself in a chair by Harry’s bed and pulled the arm of a machine closer. He injected a small plastic cartridge and checked something off on his clipboard. “That’s the plan, my boy, that’s the plan. Nurse, have you prepped this?”

The woman nodded, professionalism taking over. “Yes.”

“Thanks, love,” Harry said, batting his eyelashes flirtatiously. Gemma, standing on the opposite side of the bed, swatted his arm. Louis winced, but Harry just laughed. “Careful, Gem, you’re hurting a patient here. Look at this!” He mussed his hair with his hands and held up his palms. Louis’ heart clenched. “See? I’m shedding!”

“Already?” Louis asked, taken aback. He glanced at Paul. “I thought it was supposed to take a couple weeks.”

“The radiation was pretty strong,” Gemma said before Paul could even open his mouth. She looked at Harry affectionately and put a hand on his arm. “Harry showed me some articles about the procedure. Radiation makes hair fall out faster than chemo.”

“That’s true,” Paul chimed in, wiping down a needle with disinfectant. He attached it to a tube projecting from the machine. “Nurse, could you please get the gauze ready?”

Louis looked away as the needle went into Harry’s arm, focusing on his boyfriend’s face instead. Harry watched, of course, and Louis took his hand and squeezed when he winced. He knew he’d done the right thing when Harry shot him a small smile of appreciation.

“You know,” Harry commented as Paul taped a gauze pad over the needle and the blood started coming through, “I find it kind of funny how they still call them success rates when it’s a procedure like this. I mean, I’m a terminal case, right? Technically, if you think about it, success rates for people like me are literally just zero.”

Paul adjusted the machine and flipped a switch or two. “You could say that.”

Louis swallowed, trying to wet his dry mouth. “Don’t worry yourself with trivial facts, Harry. We’re just trying to get you to eight months, okay?”

Harry smiled and closed his eyes. “Okay. Right.”

Louis held his hand through the rest of the procedure, letting Paul’s energy and jokes lighten the atmosphere of the room. He was still nervous—scared, even—but he knew things were okay for now. Harry was okay, his pulse was normal, he was breathing, and he’d be coming home in a week’s time. He was shedding his beautiful curls, but it was only temporary. He’d have time to grow them back.

Louis sighed. He’d have time.

*******

“Harry, stop coughing,” Louis urged. It was about the tenth time he’d said it in half as many minutes. “Really, you’re making me nervous. Don’t hack up a lung or something.”

Harry lamely attempted a smile, but it was interrupted by another fit. “Sorry, sorry.”

Louis’ hands tightened on the wheel of the car. His foot itched to floor the gas, but he was already speeding as it was and he didn’t want to get pulled over and waste precious time. So, knuckles white, he tried to focus on the road and not the thoughts bouncing around in his head.

Of course, he failed.

They’d said that it would probably start like this. Harry’s immune system was in bad shape thanks to the blood cell count and the failed transplant. There wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. Experimental stages of drugs—for people, anyway—were few and far between, and though Louis had called every contact he had, begged everyone he possibly could, he’d still only managed to get Harry on several waiting lists. None of them would be quick enough, and none of them had any more than an extremely slim chance of working anyway. At Harry’s stage, all they could do was sit back and wait.

It had been a month since Harry’s last stay in the hospital. That was the transfusion and transplant. It had seemed to work, but the cells were rejected and they’d had to do another transfusion just to keep Harry’s heart from stopping, all while Louis sat on the sidelines and watched. Now Harry had a hacking cough that wouldn’t go away and Louis couldn’t stop shaking. He’d almost convinced himself Harry was healthy, what with his hair starting to grow back and his ever-positive attitude. Now this.

Harry started on another round of coughing, and Louis left his last care in the bloody world at being pulled over and sped up another few notches on the speedometer.

“You’ll be fine, Haz,” he said in a cheery voice. Harry gave him a sidelong glance that showed Louis he wasn’t fooled. “What? You’re on a couple waiting lists. We can call Gemma and she can do another transfusion if she has to. You’re fine. We’re fine.”

“Yeah, I’m sure to last another fifty years,” Harry said dryly, wiping at his chin. Louis glanced at the boy’s chest. It was fluttering a little, like Harry was trying to control another fit. He sighed.

“Babe, maybe we should’ve brought your stuff.”

“You said there was no reason to.”

“But maybe we should’ve.” Louis swallowed, edging up on another car and blasting the horn when the tosser slowed down some. “Fucking asswipe. Not you, Haz.”

“You can always pick it up later,” Harry reassured Louis in an attempt to distract him from his slight road rage. He shot his dimple-filled smile into the rearview mirror, making Louis grin a little as well. He couldn’t resist that face.

“Maybe,” he allowed. His face fell a little when he remembered exactly what they were discussing. “I don’t really want to leave you alone though. You know?”

“And why not?” Harry retorted good-naturedly. “Afraid I won’t make it ‘til morning?”

That was exactly what he was afraid of. “Well, you know you can’t really fight this sort of stuff off, Harry. Your body can’t, I mean. Paul said that.”

Harry waved a dismissive hand, coughing once. He leaned his head against the window. “Trivial facts. We don’t worry about those, Boo.” Louis wrinkled his nose at the nickname, though he felt his cheeks grow warm at the playful affection behind it. Harry smirked. “Turn the music on, will you? Your honking is getting obnoxious.”

Louis turned the radio on low and let the familiar, overplayed pop lyrics spread through the car and settle on his nerves, calming them more than he ever thought shitty music could. They were quiet for the rest of the ride, save Harry’s occasional raspy coughs.

Louis was ready.

***

The staccato beeps of the machines hooked to the walls and his boyfriend were becoming a comfort to Louis. They were pretty much the only constant here, and had been for the past few weeks. He knew, though, that his constant was coming to an end. The beeps had been getting steadily more erratic over the course of two or three days, and now he was trembling at the thought of a life without them. He wished he had Liam or Zayn or even Niall there with him, to take the edge off, but they were away, giving the two space. They’d already said all they needed to say.

Louis looked down at Harry, traced his thin, almost frail body with his eyes. He imagined hard muscle where it once was, strong bones and joints where they once existed. He remembered when Harry was at least partially tanned, though Louis preferred the milky white skin that he’d traced with his lips so many times. All the little physical things he’d taken for granted with Harry were gone.

But his eyes. And his hair, growing back even after being forced out with the useless chemicals and abuse it’d endured. And his cheekbones, so perfect even while hollow. Harry was beautiful, Louis knew, no matter what condition his body was in. Beautiful, flawless, and perfect.

“You gonna let me in?” Harry asked teasingly, his voice weaker than it had been even the day before. “You’re a million miles away.”

Louis smiled at him, unable to help it. “Sorry. I can’t stop thinking.”

Harry shook his head and smiled back, revealing his dimples. “Don’t apologize, dummy. That’s your thing, thinking. I never could figure out everything going on in that mind of yours.”

“Simpleton,” Louis teased, ignoring the tug on his heart. “You wish you could know everything I think about.” _Not._

Harry gazed at Louis with almost overwhelming affection. “That’s what drew me to you, though. Guessing what you’re thinking. Your thoughtful face, when you’re in that place you go sometimes to think about things? It’s beautiful. Really makes me love you.”

Louis rolled his eyes and ruffled Harry’s curls fondly, gently. “You’re so cheesy.”

“That’s not cheesy,” Harry argued weakly. “Cheesy is talking about living together in a beautiful little cottage with a white picket fence and making cookies and having grandkids.”

Louis looked down, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Yeah. That.”

And then he was thinking about it. Twenty years from the present. Sitting on a porch swing with Harry, maybe with a couple of toddlers, reading a novel by Ben Elton. Or maybe a classic, like _Tale of Two Cities._ Louis licked his lips and swallowed again. God, he wished he could have that. But Harry’s forever was almost up.

“Louis, what’s wrong?” Harry’s worried tone broke through his reverie, but when he exited his dreams, some of his thoughts came with him. He felt the tears then, and he didn’t try to stop them as they started to cascade down his face. “Louis?”

“I didn’t want it to go this way, you know.” Louis smiled, his lips quivering a little through the curtain of tears. He tried his best to wipe them, but more came and he gave up. He grabbed at Harry’s hand clumsily. “I wanted to stay with you forever, Harry Edward Styles. Not your forever; my forever. I didn’t want eight months of no restrictions or boundaries. I wanted a lifetime. I wanted to grow old with you and watch your hair turn gray with mine so you could make your stupid jokes about it and make me laugh instead of worry.” Louis’ eyes were still on Harry’s, and he struggled through the mud in his brain to commit those perfect green eyes to memory, streaming tears and all. “I wanted to share everything with you and give everything of mine to you and keep you for myself, no matter how selfish that is. You’re perfect and you’d better know that.”

“Lou,” Harry choked, his hand shaking in Louis’.

“Don’t you die on me yet, Styles,” Louis ordered, his voice wavering. “Not until I’m done. I love you and I will always love you and I will never love anyone as much as I’ve loved you. You made my life worth living for all these years, and you’re the one who’s going to keep me going for the rest of my days. And no matter what happens to me, Harry, I will never fucking forget.”

“You’re so beautiful, Louis,” Harry said, his voice cracking at the end with an embarrassingly high sob. Louis didn’t care; he was probably making noises of his own. His reached for Harry’s cheek and brushed his fingers down it softly. “So fucking beautiful, you know that? You made this worth it, okay? I’ll never forget you either. You’re my best mate, the best boy I ever met.”

“Silly boy,” Louis tried to joke, his voice raspy. “I’m a man. Maybe you could’ve been one too, eventually.” He took a shaky breath. “If you’d stopped crying at Disney movies.”

Harry laughed then, just for a couple seconds, before he started coughing, and he brought an arm up to his mouth as he fought the hacking in his chest. Louis bit the inside of his cheek and felt more warm tears rush to his eyes. He held them back this time.

“Don’t kill yourself, idiot,” he croaked. “My jokes aren’t that funny.”

He saw fresh tears on Harry’s cheeks and wiped them away quickly, grabbing a tissue from the small table next to the white bed.

“And don’t cry, love,” he said gently, trying his best to hold in the guttural sobs that threatened to break free of their confines. “Just…please be happy. For me. Right now. Please.”

Harry nodded and drew a long breath that shook in the middle. “Yeah. Okay. For you.”

“I love you,” Louis whispered, spent and at a loss for words. Harry looked at him again, straight at him, into his eyes with that soul-piercing green that Louis loved to lose himself in.

“I love you too, Boo,” Harry whispered back, reaching up to touch him. Louis took his hand and held it at his cheekbone, where Harry’s large hand fit best and always went when they kissed. They didn’t do that now. This was all about words, the things they didn’t want to leave unsaid. They’d had months to prove that their physical love was real. Now was time for the rest. “Thank you, Louis. Thank you for giving me your time and your love and your care and you. Thank you for everything we’ve had together. I love you so much for that.”

“Thank you for giving me your forever,” Louis managed, feeling the tears prick at his eyes again. “I love you just as much for that, babe. There’s nothing I would’ve ever traded for your forever.”

“I’m sorry for being so sappy,” Harry groaned. Louis laughed, and he saw his favourite dimples.

“Don’t apologize, love,” he said softly, leaning down and kissing Harry’s forehead. “You know that’s one of the many things I love about you.”

Harry nodded, his eyes droopy. “Louis?”

Louis’ breath caught. “Yes?”

“I fucking love you.”

“I know. I love you too.”

“Tell Niall I love him, the dumb cunt.”

Louis smiled, his heart in an iron vice. “I will.”

“And Liam and Zayn. They’re good mates. And they were nice to you. Tell them I love them.” Harry closed his eyes and sighed.

“Will do, big guy.” Louis stroked Harry’s cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry murmured.

“I love you,” Louis whispered. Before Harry could try to answer, Louis’ mouth found his love’s and he placed a tender kiss on the once full lips that he still loved because they tasted like Harry and love and memories and home. And then there was a beep that lasted more than a few seconds and a nurse rushed in and checked several monitors and a clipboard and glanced at the bed, where Louis was pulling away from the tall boy with the curly hair and the green eyes.

She watched as Louis kissed Harry’s forehead one more time, pushing his soft, regrown curls out of the way. She listened as he whispered “thanks for forever, Hazza” in the boy’s ear. And she waited as the thin boy slowly drifted out of the room, disobeying rules and pulling out his cell phone to call his friends with the news, a small and sad and content smile on his lips.

Louis listened to the dial tone as he remembered a kiss in front of a Parisian sunset and the ones at home, in the comfort of a bed he shared with the boy he loved once and would never stop loving: the boy with the dimples and green eyes and long curls, who gave him a short but perfect forever, and who would never be bothered by trivial facts.


End file.
